Swordstuck
by pyrrhicvictoly
Summary: Dave breaks all the swords. All of them.


**A/N: This was originally posted on AO3 as part of a series of "DaveKat AUs" that I wrote as treats for Giftstuck 2014. SOME FICS FROM THE COLLECTION ARE AO3 ONLY. Site rules and such. Check them out there if you like this one. :)**

* * *

"You should really stop," John said.

"Can't stop won't stop."

"Seriously, Dave, there's only so many legendary swords in the world. You're gonna run out soon, so might as well stay here and take a normal sword from our armory."

"Why, you offering me your 'sword'? That a thing, John?"

"Eew!" Prince John scrunched up his nose in disgust, followed by a laugh to soften the blow. "No homo! And even if homo, no way, you'll break it!"

Sir Strider shrugged at the statement and, bowing to his liege, excused himself from the prince's chambers. Had it been a few months ago, he would have feigned to take a deeper affront to John's jests, but it had been quite a few quests and just as many failures on his journey to find himself a swank magic sword.

Every knight worth his or her salt had a magic sword. Lady Pyrope's slim silver rapier, for some reason nicknamed "Sick Grindzz", was an example of such. (She'd gotten it off some child-abusing wizard with a bunch of "Z"s in his name.) Even the mostly-incompetent Squire English had managed to score himself enchanted twin dueling sabers by saving a town from skull creatures.

Dave, too, had slain his fair share of foes. Yet every magical sword he came across, no matter how the legends said they were unbreakable or somesuch, managed to crack right in two in Sir Strider's hands. He was starting to think he was cursed – or, actually, he knew he was cursed, which was why, many quests and just as many failures later, he did as he always did and set off to ask the kingdom's infamous Blood Knight for help.

As he was on his way to the library he knew Sir Vantas liked to haunt, Dave passed by the weaver women – magic weavers, that is – and his sister among them. They swished by, heads covered by hoods and long robes trailing behind them. Each held her hands in front, clasped together and hidden by voluminous sleeves.

Rose broke out of the weavers' formation to smirk at him, and Dave paused his stride so as not to take her too far from the group. Family was a pain, he thought, because one always had to put up with their asshattery. Little sisters were even more of a pain than most other family members because they were nosy as fuck, and _magic_ wielding little sisters had otherworldly means to pry.

"You know," Rose said after the other women had rounded the corner and gone out of earshot, "They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results."

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Well, are you sure a sword is what you're after?"

"Uh… _yes_?"

Rose only smirked more, all cryptic and shit. Dave figured they had classes for that at the magical academies: How To Look Like a Know-It-All Douchelord 101. "Okay then," she said. "Good luck with that. Say hello to Sir Vantas for me."

* * *

"Yo, Vantas—"

"No."

"Vantas."

"No more swords."

"Karkat."

"No."

"Karshizzle my nizzle fee fi fo fizzle."

"No, fuck you, and no."

"You work it, bro. Sizzle. Hot 'n' fresh, like meat on a griddle—"

"_What?_" Vantas slammed shut his tome of blood majyyks, fierce troll eyes raising to meet Dave's.

"Dude, your eyes. Those bags aren't even bags anymore, they're _baggage_."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm packing for a vacation, you shitmonger. I've stuffed all my belongings up my nook and under my eyes, now _what do you want?_"

"…Also Rose says hi."

"That's it? You interrupted my studies because your stupid human sideways dancestor said, and I quote, 'hi'?"

"Technically she said 'hello'. Also also, I need you to help me find a sword again."

"…I will murder you. Slowly."

* * *

Karkat Vantas was unlike the other knights of the court not because he was a troll (there were plenty) or a mutant (oddballs tended to gravitate to Prince John), but because he chose to be a knight when his natural abilities said he ought to be a mage. Karkat was stubborn though, and he used his inclination toward blood magic to forge weapons out of his own life force. He was one of the few knights who didn't have a magic sword, but in his case it was because he _was_ his sword – it ran throughout his veins when not in use.

Blood, however, was also the aspect of unity, of bonds. This was the reason Dave always went to Karkat to help with finding a new prospective sword, or so he told himself. Perhaps if Karkat were to offer his blessings, the unity thing would conquer Dave's shitastic luck and make it so the sword stayed intact.

Two days after Dave's library visit, Sir Vantas approached the other knight in the mess hall. Dave was having a late lunch after a grueling training session; he was sweaty and tired and the only food left in the kitchens were the dregs of the stew pot. Said bowl of unappetizing stew jiggled as Karkat dropped yet another musty tome in front of Dave. The yellowing pages were opened to a drawing of a sword upon which it was inscribed, "Caledfwlch".

"Ka-led-fwilch? Fwelch? Foolch? Help me Vantas I can't read."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Well can you read it?"

"Of course I can. Fuck if I know how it's pronounced, though."

Dave lifted the tome and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he contemplated the artistic rendition with much intensity. He flipped it turnways and contemplated it some more. "I think it's calling to me," he finally said. "It's all like, 'Help, Sir Strider! Free me from this stone! For you are the only knight ironic enough to wield a sword with this kind of sicknasty name that no one can pronounce.' I think that's what it's saying."

Karkat remained unimpressed, his features impassive. "And you want me to come with you."

"Duh. S'what we always do."

At this, Karkat grunted in frustration. "I don't get why you think you have anybody to impress. Sword or no sword, you have skill to spare. The prince already thinks of you as his personal knight."

Dave had no response to this; he merely shrugged. "But it's not like you're busy, right?"

"Augh!"

* * *

"Pull it— No! Gently! Gently, you slurry-swilling douchewaffle! Just—! Just give it a little tug first!"

"Jeez, man, chillax, I got this."

"You're being too rough!"

"It's not your bulge, Karkat. This sword can handle a bit of a rougher handjob like this—"

"STOP JACKING OFF THE SWORD!"

"You're the one who told me to tug!"

"NOT REPEATEDLY! NOT TO THAT SORT OF RHYTHM!"

Caledfwlch remained stuck steadfast in its stone no matter how Dave sweet talked it or jacked it off. Karkat had purposely cut himself when they first approached the legendary weapon, and he used his blood to coat the blade and add extra enchantments. Caledfwlch, like the other magic swords they'd come across before, had already borne an absurd amount of strengthening enchantments, and yet Sir Strider's shit fucking negative luck was always enough to counter them. The swords _were_ quite ancient under the enchantments, so it was no surprise that Dave's mysterious enchantment-cancelling touch caused them to break.

It made no sense, but it happened every. Goddamn. Time.

Caledfwlch was no exception. Dave, having grown impatient with gentle tugs, wrapped both hands around the hilt and pulled with all his might. The sword's older enchantments dissipated at once, until all that was left holding it together was Karkat's blood. It creaked within the stone and, for a second, appeared to rise a few inches…

Then there was a crack. And a snap. And the legendary Caledfwlch, said to be indestructible, snapped in half mere inches above where its point remained buried in the stone.

There was silence for a moment as both knights Strider and Vantas surveyed the damage.

"…For the record, this is not what your asshole will look like if I ever plow you," Dave said, eyes staying resolutely on the wreckage.

"What, you mean bloodied and with half a sword still stuck in it?"

"…Yes. That."

Karkat shook his head. "Fuck you, Strider. Seriously. Fuck. You. You'll never get a sword to last as long as you keep walking around with that curse that you don't even know _where_ you picked up. Where the hell are your priorities? These quests are fruitless and always will be."

Dave sucked in a breath. Karkat was on to him and growing impatient. He let out his breath, and along with it came the truth. "Yeah, I know. It's really more of an excuse to hang out with you."

"That's…"

"Really sweet of me, right?"

"I was going to say 'cowardly'."

"Wow, harsh."

"But sweet works, too." Karkat stole a glance at the bloody sword stump and grimaced. "Next time, though, you should just ask me out."

"Would you say 'yes'?"

"You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

"Then consider yourself asked. Karkat Vantas, will you please, _please_ let me give you a good dicking."

Karkat bit his bottom lip to suppress a laugh, though he still managed to growl out, "If your sword breaks off in me, I will end you."

"You keep saying that, but you never do. Uh oh. Better stop before I start thinking that might just be the way you prickly types express love."

"As if," he said. "Who'd fall in love with you, Strider?"

But there was no heat in the words, and both knights couldn't hold back their matching grins as they headed back to the castle, half a Caledfwlch in tow.


End file.
